Krissy: Before Her Monster
by Happygoddess2003
Summary: This is a requested prequel to my 3 part series 'Krissy's Monster'. Set it my AU, her father dies the night they find him. This is the story of how she is taken in by Sam and Dean, and her experiences acclimating. Some discipline involved, warnings will be posted. I own nothing Supernatural.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story was requested by tamilyn313 - Krissy, from the beginning when the boys bring her to live with them, before her monster. Out of that request this has been born – I hope you like! Set in AU, with components of the show/please be kind and remember I got this request a few years after I wrote Krissy's Monster, so if some things don't meet too clearly at the seams, just go with it** **Leave a review if you're so inclined. More than anything I appreciate you stopping by and reading. I own nothing Supernatural.**

Chapter 1:

Dean ran to the chair Lee Chambers was rag-doll limp in, chin resting on his chest. Krissy bolted across the cold cement floor, only to be stopped in her tracks and lifted by her momentum with Sam's strong forearm. He encircled her waist as she kicked in the air and screamed for her father. Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head. Lee was gone. Krissy shrieked, bent herself backwards _(later Sam would wonder how she managed to INVERT herself in such a way)_ , and slippeed out of his grasp. She was twelve years old and incredibly lithe.

"Get the fuck outta my way, Dean! Daddy!" she screamed, sliding down on the floor sideways into her father's silent death-chair. She scrambled up his body and sat on his lap, lifting his head and wrapping her legs around his waist.

Dean put his hand on her shoulder, bringing her attention back to him.

"You! This is ALL your fault! You were too slow! You handcuffed me! I could have helped – I DID help! Don't touch me! He's not dead, he's warm! I hate you!"

She looked back to her father, kissing his cheek and sobbing for him to wake up. The longer she spoke to him with no response, the more frantic her voice became until she was screaming at him to just wake up. She was hysterical and Sam had seen enough. He stepped forward.

"Krissy. Listen to me," he said in his steady voice. She looked up with hope in her eyes. Finally someone who sees.

"Sam. Sam! We need to get him to a hospital! Hurry! I'll untie him so we can get out of here. Come ON!" she begged, crawling down and using her knife to slice through the thick rope he had been bound with. He tumbled forward onto the floor, where she struggled to lift him by herself.

"Are you two gonna just stare or do you plan on actually doing something here?" she panted, sweat beads flying through the air as she whipped her head back and forth between the brothers, red faced from exertion and crying. Dean looked at her somberly.

"Honey, he's gone. He's warm, but he isn't alive. Krissy, I'm so sorry. I … I …" he stammered. He looked down at her, hating the hunting life for the things it made them do. Things like peeling a twelve year old girl off her dead father. He reached down toward her and she held up her knife.

"Don't! Don't you touch him OR me! You stay away! I'll do it myself – I'll get him to the hospital and you'll see. You'll BOTH see!" she spat.

Sam knelt beside her, lifting her dad up so his head was off the cement and on her lap.

"Oh thank God, thank you Sam. Let's hurry! There's still time…"

He didn't try to reason with her this time, knowing it would be impossible to push through her hysterics with words. He took her small hand in his and placed it on her father's neck.

"Do you want me to show you how to find a pulse?" he asked her calmly. God, she was so small. Her lips were blue from the cold and he could see her left eye twitch as she hiccupped though tears.

"I already know how to, you dimwit! I'm twelve, not two!" He looked at her, shocked, as she shook his hand off and placed her index and middle finger on the side of his throat. "It's right here, below…"

She stopped and furrowed her brows, moving her fingers slightly to the right and left. She placed more pressure, looking up into Sam's brown-green eyes. She suddenly grabbed his hand, holding his two fingers.

"Find it, Sam. Find his pulse for me, okay? I know you can. Sam. Please. Please don't give up. He's still warm. STILL FUCKING WARM!" she screamed. Instead, he took his fingers and brought her now freezing hands into his own. He cursed this life, just as his brother had a few minutes earlier.

"Are you ready to listen to me? Try – try your hardest, okay? Look at your dad, Krissy." He waited patiently for her to look down. She recoiled from the sight of her father's face: slack-jawed and open eyed. Dead eyes. Dead like her mother's were. Death all around her. She kissed his cheek and it was cold. _(Not happening. This is not happening - oh God where are you? You are nowhere. You are nothing to me. And now I have nobody. I fucking hate you.)_

She slumped to the floor and reached for her knife, resigned to her own fate. Even in her state of shock, she was incredibly fast for a girl her age. It was in her hand and pointed at her chest in a flash. If it hadn't been so incredibly dangerous, it would have been impressive.

"This never happened. You never met me. Burn me with my Daddy. I want to be with my Daddy!" she said without tears, the shock finally beginning to settle into her mind and body. She began to push the knife across her chest when Sam lunged forward and lifted her arms up to his brother, who was waiting behind her. He carefully maneuvered her wrist in an arc _(much like Sam would do four years later)_ , forcing the knife to clink its way across the floor. Sam could see blood running down the front of her shirt, and her glassy orbs staring back at him. He reached forward and lifted her easily – she had checked out. She was in that space where you go when you shut down and protect yourself. Dean wrapped his jacket around her, tucking it under her small frame lying across his brother. He could see her fingernails were blue now, and she had to get out of that cold, dead room.

He handed Sam the keys.

"You go and get Baby warm and I'll take care of the mess here. I'll bring Lee and we can wrap him in a blanket for the funeral. She's freezing and in shock. And bleeding. Go see what you can do and I'll be along as quick as I can. These hags'll be an easy cleanup," he said with the confidence of years of cleanup.

Sam felt Krissy's shallow breath on his neck and gave his brother a nod. He was out the door and warming the Impala in a matter of minutes, laying her down in the back seat and rolling up her shirt to see the damage. She had sliced just under the left side of her chest – meaning business. Grabbing one of their numerous kits, he began tearing large gauze pads from their sterile enclosures and pressing them into her wound.

She stirred as he pressed, moaning for her Daddy over and over to the point that Sam just finally gave in, kissing her temple and telling her that he was right there.

"Daddy's here baby. Shhh… hush… you're gonna be fine. Gonna fix you up, so be a good brave girl for me, okay?" He felt terrible lying to her, but the odds were she wouldn't remember any of this.

"Bad dream, Daddy. So bad. So tired," she whimpered, trying to curl onto her side.

"Baby, you have to stay on your back for now, understand? Stay right there for me, and I want you to take these for me to help with the pain." In truth they were gonna knock her the fuck out and help with the pain. He was looking at least eight stitches and didn't want to fight her, and he had a feeling she was a fighter. He heard Dean in the trunk and realized he had wrapped Lee and placed him there.

"Too tired. Don't wanna drink pills, Daddy," she said pitifully. "Hurts."

Dean opened the back door and helped his Sam lift her up so she could take the pills. He raised an eyebrow at hearing her call his brother daddy.

"Dude, I dunno, just go with it. She's out of her mind with grief and shock and blood loss," he explained. He turned his voice toward Krissy and said firmly, "Krissy, open and take these pills for Daddy right now. You need them to get better or you'll have to go to the hospital and get a big shot." He hoped twelve year old hunter girls were afraid of shots. He got lucky.

"No, no hospital, Daddy. Remember they tried to take me away from you the last time? No shots. I'll be good," she answered groggily. She dutifully opened her mouth and Sam put the pills on her tongue and placed the water to her mouth.

"Easy, sweetie – nice, slow drinks. Here, drink some more," he murmured. "That's my good girl," he praised. He checked her mouth and took a minute to put his hand on her cheek. Good. She was finally warming up and her head was in Dean's lap.

"Okay, I'm gonna need you to hold the light while I do this. You got it?" he asked, passing the bright flashlight to Dean without waiting for an answer. Dean cradled her head in his lap, running one hand through her hair absentmindedly while holding the light with the other. He wanted to keep her like this, calm and sleeping. He didn't look forward to her waking up to death and pyres. Not this young. It fucking sucked.

"Yeah, do your thing, Sam. Let's get her patched up and get moving."

Sam had already threaded the needle, and was ready with water for irrigation and antiseptic. He also wanted her out cold for this. He didn't want to hurt her; she was just a little girl, really. Barely twelve, going on twenty five from the mouth on her. The mouth of a truck driver named Gus. He kinda liked that name. Gus.

He had a feeling Lee allowed her to help him with hunts and wasn't much of a disciplinarian, both of which Sam strongly disagreed with. He could tell just in the time they had been together that she ran her father, and not the other way around. _"One thing at a time, Winchester"_ he thought.

He cut her bloody shirt off, and began stitching her, moving methodically and making every curve of the needle count. Nine in all. He tied off the end and neatly cut the extra thread, then placed a sterile covering on it. He planned to check it twice daily until he took the stitches out, just to keep her safe from infection. They pulled a clean tee shirt over her head and pushed her arms through. Dean was hit with a memory of helping Sam get dressed the same way when he was small. It was crystal clear and he smiled.

Sam came to take Dean's place, and Dean did what he did best – hit the road and wasted no time.

He heard her once, saying "I love you, Daddy, don't ever leave me," and he winced. Then he heard Sam's low, steady voice reply that he would never leave her and that he loved her, too. "Now rest your eyes baby, go to sleep. We're on our way home now and you'll be feeling better soon. I promise. So brave tonight."

Dean saw it. She WAS brave. Smart mouthed, rude, and incredibly brave. She should fit in fine.

They never even discussed keeping her. It was just an unspoken decision they made together in Baby that night. They knew she had no relatives. They knew what CPS would do. She was too young to be on her own. They felt responsible for her. They would keep her, love her, teach her, and protect her. She would come through this changed, but safe. Sam caught Dean's reflection in the mirror and nodded in agreement. He leaned his head back to rest on Baby's leather and allowed himself to close his eyes. He didn't wake up until they were home.

 **A/N: Anything special you would like to see in this Prequel – just PM me. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: An update for you! Please be patient with my other stories… I am doing the best I can! I own nothing Supernatural.**

Dean sat beside the small twin bed as Krissy stirred in her sleep. She would occasionally moan unintelligible words that she spoke clearly in her fitful slumber. In her non-peaceful rest, the same loop curved and followed back again, always ending with her Daddy's dead eyes looking up at her. Blaming her. Telling her if only she had practiced more at slipping handcuffs and her speed – if only she had LOVED him more, then he would still be with her. She had let him down, and now she had to pay the price. Now she had to live with this for the rest of her life. She had let her Daddy die.

She was jolted awake by cold. Cold scissors on her skin. Her eyes flew open as she instinctively swung her small fists in defense, using her heels to scramble backward on the bed until she was pressed tightly against the wooden headboard. There were people in this room with her. She strained her eyes to focus on her surroundings, and her mind to remember where she was and why she was there.

She felt the bed dip on both sides of her. _(Where was Daddy? Have I been taken? Monsters? CPS?)_ She had a big blank spot in the middle of her memory. _(Focus, Krissy. Think, stupid ass. Look at these strangers. Have some balls.)_

She looked side to side, assessing the two men. One was holding a water bottle, and one was holding a pair of scissors. THE pair of scissors. They could just be people, but sometimes people were worse than the other things in the dark. Or they could be anything she knew existed in the hunting world. She took a slow breath in.

"If you're gonna kill me, just kill me," she said, giving both strangers her best scowl. Yet, there was something sadly familiar about them – were they strangers? Her head hurt, and she felt a deep pain in her chest _. (What the hell happened? Was I attacked? Hurt fighting? Is Daddy in the hospital?)_

The one with the water handed it to her, unopened. Dean knew she was in shock, probably had blocked everything from the night before, and wouldn't trust to drink it opened. He held it out to her, face a blank canvas. Her eyes narrowed at him, and he marveled that she was one of the very few people who had ever dared to do such a thing.

"It's called water. You're dehydrated. It's unopened. Drink it," he said firmly.

Her thirst overwhelmed her suspicion and she let the cool water slide down her throat. She was parched.

"Not so fast, Gus," the other one said. She glared at him, too. He gently pried the bottle out of her small hand. "Let's see if you can eat some soup, okay?"

Gus. Someone called her that. WTF. Who was it?

"Krissy, come down here, there's no reason for you to be afraid of us. You know us. You just don't remember yet," the one with green eyes said, holding his hands on her ankles to slide her back down.

Krissy assessed them both. They WERE familiar…

… But these weren't her clothes. She was in a white tee shirt that hung to her knees, she felt for her underwear and was relieved to find them intact. In fact, she had to pee. Badly.

She shook Dean's hands off her ankles, holding her left side.

"Where the fuck are my clothes, you… you … PERVS!" she screamed at them.

Dean pointed his index finger to a chair in the corner of the room. On the seat of the chair were her jeans and socks, clean and folded.

She tried to get out of bed, holding her left side. _(Werewolf claw?)_ Damn, it hurt. Her vision began to swim.

"Woah, woah, where ya going,huh?" the tall one said. The one who called her Gus.

"Have to pee, if that's okay with you two. What should I call you – "Lords of the Manor"? she said sarcastically.

Green-eyes pierced her brown eyes and said "No. Sam and Dean work just fine."

Winchesters. The entirety of the night before slammed into her head in one swift motion. As if she were there again. It wasn't a bad dream. Her Daddy was dead. Beginning to slide to the floor, she had two thoughts: _(I'm peeing my pants, oh my God!)_ and _(It's gonna hurt when I hit)._ But someone caught her before that happened.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

Her eyes peeped open. She was back in the bed, in a new white tee. Her underwear were gone. _(I peed my pants.)_ It was déjà vu all over again, but this time she knew where she was and why she was there. _(Dead eyes, cold skin.)_ Nothing mattered any more. Daddy was gone, and she was here with the Winchesters, wherever they lived. Sam sat on one side of the bed, Dean on the other.

"I peed my pants!" she blurted, not knowing what to say.

"Oh, Sammy here does that about once a week, don't ya Sam?" Dean teased.

"Shut up, Dean," was his only reply. He turned his attention to Krissy. "Should we try this again?" he asked.

"I remember. I remember it all now," she mumbled to herself. "Daddy's gone."

The brothers looked across to each other and readied themselves for the talk. Neither one spoke – Dean cleared his throat, stretching his neck to the side.

"You don't get to talk to me about this," she said, looking directly into his eyes. "You are the reason this all happened to begin with." Her voice held no emotion, only the tiredness of a person who has seen too much death in their short life. The voice of a person whose final name of the last person she loved was now scratched out, a permanent marker removing him from her life.

Dean looked at her and tried to reach for her hand. "Krissy, listen to me…" he began.

"I SAID YOU DON'T FUCKING GET TO TALK TO ME ABOUT THIS!" she screeched.

Dean Winchester, the man who went to hell and back, the man who was known as a legend amongst hunters and best friends with an angel, recoiled. This WAS his fault. He had cuffed her to the steering wheel for her own protection, and it had backfired against him. He sensed there would be no light banter or fist bumps in their future for a long time – if ever.

She turned her body toward Sam, wincing in pain. She wanted her back to that Dean. That asshole.

"If he hadn't handcuffed me my Daddy would still be alive. If I had been faster, he would be alive. If…"

"No," Sam rebutted. "No, Gus – you're wrong. Your father was already gone. There was nothing any of us could do."

She pursed her lips and gave him a dirty look. "You're lying to me to save your brothers precious ego. You're a liar. You'd say anything for him. I'm only twelve but everyone knows that about the two of you. I don't believe you. I don't know you. I don't trust you. I want to see my father now. And stop calling me Gus."

She felt Sam's hand on her forearm, pressing gently but firmly.

"I would lie for my brother, you're right. But I'm not in this case. Your father was gone." He gave her arm a shake. "Do you hear what I'm saying? There is nothing you could have done. Nothing any of us could have done. Those hags are responsible, not Dean, not you, not me."

Krissy tried to hold his gaze but faltered. It was just too much. She looked down and her eyes stung with tears that began making a trail down her cheeks.

"I want to see my father."

"Of course you do. Let me check your stitches, then we can get this over with," he said, reaching out to lift Dean's tee that hung off her shoulder.

"Get your hand off me, you perv!" she said, slapping his large hand away from the hem of her shirt.

Sam regrouped. _(I knew nothing would be easy with her.)_ It was imperative to keep that wound clean. The knife she used wasn't clean by any stretch of the imagination. It was too risky to let her have her way, both now and for future measure. He hated this.

"I know you're upset. I understand. But I'm checking your wound one way or the other. Your choice." He made sure he emphasized to her that she decided how it would play out.

"I can check my own cut. They're just stitches. I've patched Daddy up lots of times. I mean, I did," she added with small drop of her head. "I can do it myself," she said with finality.

"You're twelve freaking years old," Dean interjected. "Twelve."

Krissy pivoted her head slowly, steeling her eyes at Dean. Her mouth opened …

… and Sam snapped his finger in front of it.

"Stop, Gus. And I mean now. If you fight and rip your stitches, Dean will have to restrain you while I clean them up and re-stitch. It will take longer for us to get you up to see your dad and say good bye. Do you really want that, hmm?" he asked, reaching back over to lift the hem of her tee. She didn't hit his hand away this time. She didn't say a word.


	3. Chapter 3

AUTHOR NOTE: Hi guys! Or possibly just "guy" since I've been gone so long LOL…. Wanted you to know I'm writing again and will be plugging away at updating stories AND continuing the Libby stories with my friend, The Wanderer23! She's such a gifted writer; it's a pleasure to co-write with her! Just give me a little patience, and I promise you will see new chapters VERY soon!


	4. Chapter 4

AUTHOR NOTE: Hi guys! Or possibly just "guy" since I've been gone so long LOL…. Wanted you to know I'm writing again and will be plugging away at updating stories AND continuing the Libby stories with my friend, The Wanderer23! She's such a gifted writer; it's a pleasure to co-write with her! Just give me a little patience, and I promise you will see new chapters VERY soon!


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